


imperishable goods

by wendysheep



Series: before the retrospect [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Established Relationship, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Relationship Study, depends what u consider angst really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendysheep/pseuds/wendysheep
Summary: Suna knows two things for certain.1. He wants to be with Ginjima.2. Ginjima wants to be in America.
Relationships: Ginjima Hitoshi/Suna Rintarou
Series: before the retrospect [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151243
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	imperishable goods

**Author's Note:**

> technically a sequel to the [first fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501425) but could be read as a stand alone (though first fic is a lot more coherent and happy :) and this one is a bit more.. me projecting lol.) 
> 
> I love ginsuna w my whole heart and I think they’re absolutely in love and have each other’s best interest at heart. I wrote this fic for personal reasons as well as wanting to delve into their personalities more and see how they’ve evolved around each other. First but definitely not the last time I’ll do this.
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy the mess.

  
Ginjima’s chest is pale and freckled with fading red spots, the type that can be credited to the wake of his adolescence – can’t be helped – or the excessive sweat as a result of his efforts in volleyball practice – can’t be helped – or both, striking him in tandem, the former made worse by the latter. 

Life is annoying like that – can’t be helped.

Similar ones have appeared on the back of Suna’s shoulders before. The difference being that Suna kept going to his mom to complain and remedy it, while Ginjima has never brought it up as a point of insecurity, claiming no one can really see them, anyway. True for the average person who would only ever see Ginjima shirtless from a reasonable distance. At an onsen, where he’s sinking into the water to ease his muscles from the strain of a successful game, or a beach, maybe in California, where he’s seen enough sun that it blends in with the rest of his burnt skin; a ripe colour that Suna tries to rival with gentle bites, try to make it his, even if the shade is always slightly off.

“Are ya laughing?” Ginjima asks, breaking silence.

Suna’s knees tighten around Ginjima’s hips as he stretches his fingers on the expanse of his chest. It’s a comfortable position, straddled on his lap. Warm, for one, but Suna mainly just likes feeling smaller around him, in a protected way. An oblivious way.

The contusions above his collarbones look darker under the dim lighting of the room. Suna presses into one out of instinct, and Ginjima doesn’t wince. His hands softly squeeze the outside of Suna’s clothed legs. Lazy, returning the affection.

“Should I be?”

Ginjima huffs out of his nose, humoring him, accompanying it with a half smile that he’s yet to show outside of his sated state.

“Yer just smiling, is all,” Ginjima reasons.

“I usually am with you,” Suna says despite himself, despite all his jokes and over-the-top mockery of sentimentality.

He has to justify himself, elucidates his love language with comfortable silences and unconditional attention – accurate, for the most part, until he gets caught up in his own irony in need of an outlet for whatever clenches at his heart in Ginjima’s presence.

Both his stress relief and a supplement to his worries. Suna can only respond by squeezing Ginjima into a tight hug and stay unknowing of how long it’ll be before he lets go again.

Forever seems like too long of a time for Suna to try and truly comprehend – like quantum mechanics or rocket science, things that doesn’t think he’ll ever _need_ to comprehend, other peoples problems – so he yields before even trying, would end up making stupid, bold claims to himself like _we could definitely last forever_ before saying it out loud to Ginjima, in that joking, over-the-top mockery that confirms Suna’s qualms of how ridiculous of a thought it is. Maybe it’s why he thinks forever is how long they can last; maybe it’s why the thought of Ginjima lasting forever seems impossible.

Even with his height, Suna compacts himself onto Ginjima’s frame, head nudged into the tight space between his arm and his bare torso, arms clinging around his waist, hunched over like he’s desperate and derelict. Generous with his fondness, Ginjima’s hand strokes over Suna’s nape, occasionally switching the pads of his fingers to his blunt nails. The light scratches make Suna shudder.

“Hey,” Ginjima says softly – a tone unfamiliar to anyone but Suna. “Hungry?”

Suna shakes his head, still tucked under Ginjima’s arm.

“Ya sure?” Ginjima pushes.

“Tired.”

“You can stay the night.”

It’s in his voice, the lightness of each brush, Ginjima’s smiling, probably watching his own hand run down Suna’s back before tracing a sole finger up the dip of his spine.

“I know,” Suna shifts his head around a little but his voice still comes out muffled. “Wish we were roommates. I wouldn’t have to leave.” _Nor would you._

At best, he might get away with that statement because they’re dating, because he likes spending time with him, so it only makes sense. Overlook the reality that Ginjima is too particular about how his room is organised while Suna’s too particular about how his own room isn’t. 

Regardless, Ginjima agrees, always feeds any of Suna’s asinine thoughts with complete earnestness:

“It’d be fun.” Even though they’d likely argue about things like how they arrange their closet and which bathroom cabinet is used for what. Suna for toothbrushes in one cup, Ginjima for toothbrushes in separate cups; Suna for devotion, Ginjima for practicality.

It’s offensive in that juvenile way that people never really quite grow out of. Or maybe they do; he’s not old enough to tell, but can at least recognise Ginjima’s response lacks its usual inflection – elation.

He knows why. Of course he fucking knows why. He knows everything about Ginjima because he doesn’t know much about anyone else, and Ginjima knows everything about him, because it’s difficult to like Suna otherwise. They’ve been tense since the moment Ginjima picked him up at his front door, _today is all about you, okay?_

Isn’t it always? His constant contradiction, hesitance and relief of his chance to exploit.

“What if I came to California,” he says airily, like it’s a passing thought, not one that has been keeping him up late at night in a chorus of other things. “Hypothetically. Would you hate me?”

“Despise ya, obviously,” Tone – Ginjima rolls his eyes. “I’m glad ya mentioned it first, though. If I get accepted—”

“ _When_ you get accepted,” Suna sits up straight again to look at Ginjima, who’s looking back warmly, pursing his lips as if it makes him shy to hear.

“I have a list of things we can do. Nothing big or anything, it’s just places and stuff that I thought we’d like,” Ginjima says nonchalantly.

“Like what?” Suna’s already imagining.

“Beaches. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Ginjima bites down on his bottom lip and scrunches his nose.

“Okay, well, it’s mainly just a bunch’a beaches, but I’m not done with the list yet! Just didn’t want to set an expectation, y’know, if ya couldn’t visit—”

“Not visit,” Suna interrupts. “I mean, like, with you. Went to Irvine.”

Ginjima tends to chuckle where he can’t respond. In school, Suna always saw him wearing a wonky smile when he would reject confessions, hand scratching the back of his head – intent antithetical to the scene.

He’s silent now. A choice.

So it would be a little bit of a hiccup on Ginjima’s plans if hypotheticals turned into reality, but _today is all about Suna_ , okay? He’s allowed for one day, _today,_ to forget all about how long Ginjima had spent preparing for it, how he seeked guidance wherever he could find it, on the internet, through the career counsellor, in fucking Miyagi. Their victory against Shiratorizawa was still fresh from the day before when Ginjima approached their libero and struck up a conversation – ever the gracious winner, Suna had sulked with Atsumu back then, both for their own reasons, both irrational – and managed to unintentionally pull out of him that a friend of his back home was in the process of applying for a school in the states. California. 

Walking away, out of earshot, did nothing. Suna heard it then, continued to hear about it for the next two years. _How cool. California. Can you imagine? California. It’s so far away. California._

“I don’t think you should,” Ginjima tells him. A choice.

Suna stills, staring. His skin feels hot and cold and he can’t decide between leaning closer or further away.

“I said hypothetically. Obviously I won’t.” Can’t. Application deadlines have already passed.

“I know.”

Suna blinks. “So, just, hypothetically,” 

Ginjima glances to the side and shrugs at the wall before looking up at Suna again.

“You’d regret it.”

“No I wouldn’t,” Suna blocks swiftly. Ginjima sinks into the pillow propped up behind his head.

They sit there, allow their slouches and the subtle downwards turn of their lips communicate for a bit.

“Yer pretty irrational sometimes, Rin,” Ginjima finally says. A fucking choice.

As if he’s on a stalled boat, Suna feels his body gently sway, wishes Ginjima’s hands were gripping his thighs again to keep him from going nowhere.

“Okay.” Suna drops his head and noses Ginjima’s neck. “Forget I said anything.”

Easier said than done, Suna knows neither of them are going to forget it. Even if they bring it up again, even less likely if they don’t. Suna presses his lips against Ginjima’s neck – not a kiss, just his attempt at holding back from one – and feels Ginjima swallow.

“Do you wanna talk about it—”

“No.”

Fifteen second cool down before the second attempt.

“Is this because—”

“Don’t wanna, Gin,” Suna hums quietly. “You’re right, I’d regret it.”

Immature – Suna’s only criteria for choice. Meant to hurt— _offend_ him only enough to reconsider, turn him selfish, make Suna feel a little less guilty for being so.

“I want ya to visit, Suna.”

Make Suna feel worse despite knowing he should be relieved. Make decisions for his future when his future has no say in it. His voice is a little tense no matter how hard he tries to keep it understanding, but Suna knows better, can see past Ginjima threading his fingers into the hair on the back of Suna’s head to distract himself from blurting something that might help Suna’s cause.

Ginjima’s always blurting something out. Their first fight was about him not thinking enough before he speaks, mindless comments about things Suna didn’t like discussing – grades, his parents, Atsumu, his plans next year, the year after that, ten years after that. Second fight was on Suna, for the opposite. Plotting – calculated wording, enciphered comments, all from a place of love, but Ginjima was tired of interpretation, liked straightforwardness and honesty. 

Promises were made to fix their habits but only barely upheld, just enough to use as evidence for their efforts – make it difficult for the other to ask for more. Prove their love by persevering.

It takes a minute, light scratches, silent breathing – Suna could fall asleep here and Ginjima would easily let him, past the point of his legs going numb under Suna’s weight – until the petting stops and Ginjima pulls his fingers out, gently placing it back on Suna’s thigh as a heads up.

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“About what,” Suna murmurs. Ginjima shifts his torso to unlatch Suna and force him to look up. “Me regretting it?” He sighs, exasperated. Rejection is a bit of a sore spot today.

“Us not talking about it,” Ginjima corrects.

“Like there’s anything to talk about. You already know what I’m gonna say, don’t you?” And Suna can say things like this, in this tone; he’s the beneficiary of the relationship, it’s his right.

“I didn’t know you were gonna say that.” (To wanting to follow).

“First time for everything.” (To being wrong about Suna. It’s not about wanting to follow, it never has been).

“Rintarou,” Ginjima pokes in incredulity.

“Hitoshi.”

They’re like kids—they _are_ kids, don’t use their words right and expect the best with only the limitations of what they have. Tight lips and purposeful staring. Ginjima breaks it first because his eyes drop to Suna’s mouth and he sighs, crosses his arms.

“Do you actually want to?”

“Obviously.” Obviously. It slips out too easily. “I’m fucking in love with you. Obviously."

Ginjima’s eyebrows furrow, like Suna should know why. Suna doesn’t know why. All he knows is that regulating his breathing hurts and he’s afraid. 

“And what, you’d only stay here if ya weren’t?”

“No,” Suna defends. “I’m just saying, like, that’s what I would do for you.”

“But I don’t need ya to do that for me,” Ginjima says casually, and his eyebrow quirks as he shrugs, “I don’t want ya to do that for me.”

“They have a volleyball team.”

“You have that here, too.”

“I don’t have you here.”

“I’m right here!” Ginjima chuckles pitifully and swipes his thumb down the side of Suna’s face, to his chin, holding it straight. “‘Sides, yer saying it like yer phone isn’t in yer hand all the time.”

“It’s different.” The argument catches in Suna’s throat. “You know it’s different, and I hate that you’re acting like it’s not.”

“We’ve got months before we hafta think about it. Of course I’m gonna act like it’s not, Rin.”

Wrong. Suna had already gotten a taste for it – the long weekend that Ginjima’s parents took him skiing. Ginjima rarely used his phone anyway, forget getting a response where there’s little to no internet and slow cell service. Overstuffing, that's what Suna would call it, forcing the last bite of dinner on a full stomach.

“Okay.”

“What.”

“No, nothing,” Suna mutters. “Just. Alright. Okay.”

“No, you wanna say something, I know you. You always wanna say something.”

“And you don’t?” Suna snarks.

“That’s not the—!” Ginjima runs his hand through his hair, like he just missed a serve. “I thought we both said we wouldn’t—please, Suna.”

Suna’s mouth opens and closes, too busy on the emphasis. _Please, Suna_ what? Talk or don’t talk? He tilts his head up and looks at the ceiling, can feel Ginjima’s gaze still locked on him.

“Do you not want me to come?”

“ _Sunaaaa_ ,” a low whine comes out of Ginjima, his hands fidgety, anchoring Suna’s thighs with his clasp. “I’d die if ya came with me. Seriously. I’d fail all my classes cuz I’d be so distracted with ya. My mom would kill me.”

“And me.”

“And you,” Ginjima agrees, and Suna smiles at that.

A warmth envelopes Suna’s torso. When he looks down, all he can see is the top of Ginjima’s head pressed against his chest. His fists on Suna’s back. 

“I don’t lie to ya, never have. Love you too much for it, y’know? I just… I’d rather spend four years wishing you were with me than have you spend the rest of yer life regretting that you were.”

Suna squeezes his eyes shut and allows Ginjima to squeeze his arms around him. They stay like that for a minute. Ginjima’s head disconnects first, and his hands follow suit.

“I haven’t even been accepted yet. We’re being all mopey for nothin’,” Ginjima says.

Wrong, again. Suna’s being mopey. Ginjima’s putting up with it. 

There’s no worthy response concocting in his mind, it’s too muddled. He lolls to the right and falls onto the bed, hiding his face into Ginjima’s pillow – scent so familiar, identical to his clothes. He squeezes a fistful of the sheets. California will provide a different detergent for the sheets in his dorms and make them smell foreign, a lot less like Suna’s Ginjima. Still Ginjima.

Tentatively, Suna leans into Ginjima’s touch, the stroking over his cheekbone.

“You know you would.”

“Okay.”

“Ask me why.”

“No point. Okay, I get it. I said I agree with you, Gin,” Suna shifts to lay on his back and throw his hands behind his head, casual. Eyes closed, burning. “I’d regret it and end up hating you for it, even though it would be my fault because I don’t actually know what I want and by the time I figure it out it’ll have been too late. Or whatever. Stupid shit like that. I don’t know, is that what you want me to say?”

“Are you trying to make me choose for you?” Ginjima asks.

“No,” Suna says quickly, frustrated, that Ginjima was actually listening, that Suna agrees with himself and Ginjima does too. “I don’t think so, no. Maybe I am. Is _that_ what you want me to say?”

“I don’t want ya to say anything!” Ginjima laughs, the humour lags. Before Suna can pretend to misunderstand, he revises. “I don’t want ya to _ask_ anything. Say anything ya want. Can I say something?”

“Do you think I’m selfish?” Suna asks; a question that answers itself.

Ginjima pauses.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“Do you want me to do that on purpo—”

“Christ—Suna—we’re talking in circles. Fine, yeah, I think yer a little selfish,” Ginjima confesses.

“I want to be with you,” Suna explains. Justifies.

“I don’t think ya wanna follow me,” Ginjima eases. Suna can hear him shift on the pillow beside him before he feels a light touch run up the curve of his neck.

“But I want to be with you,” _because you call me selfish and for some reason it makes me feel better_.

“Who says we can’t still be together?”

Suna opens his eyes only to avoid looking at Ginjima, who’s watching for movement of any kind. Expectant. The air feels heavy and thick and at the loss of Ginjima’s touch, Suna starts counting down to who will speak first.

Ginjima does. Unsurprisingly.

“I can be selfish, too.”

Suna closes his eyes and waits for nothing. It’s an awfully long wait. Nothing feels like forever.

Suna’s tempted to make it worse, be worse, make this a fight that ends in tears and raw throats, bring out foolish arguments of _if you love me, why are you leaving me_ ’s and _love is about sacrifice’_ s, all things that insult Ginjima’s merit as a boyfriend. All things that insult the foundation that their relationship was built up on. All things they promised they would never do, the couple they would never be – arguments about jealousy (though Suna often is) and indecisiveness about where to eat (Ginjima is always indifferent) and who wears the pants between them (Suna claims he does but would follow Ginjima to another continent if he’d let him). None of them were signficant. Short-lived and forgotten as soon as the discussion was over – not even resolved.

“I know what you wanted to say.”

Ginjima takes a moment to remember, but takes too long, gives Suna too much time to think and convince himself to fit in the last word and _ensure_ it’s the last word.

“You’re gonna say you want what’s best for me—”

“What’s wrong with that—?”

Suna’s talking over him, unable to stop now that he’s started, rushing, as if it’s a race and he knows he's losing it.

“—and what’s best for me is finding—no—you’d say something like _creating_ my own path and following that instead of growing dependent on you like some fucking loser who has no idea what they’re going to do with their life—”

“Rin—” Ginjima reaches out, Suna turns.

“But you’re like two years too late for that speech. Because even before we started dating—before I even knew I _liked you,_ the only fucking thing I knew for certain was _you,_ and it makes me feel like shit when you tell me that I’ll regret that choice too. Like I have no good ideas. And yeah, I don’t. I don't have any ideas at all, that’s the problem.”

Suna refuses to open his eyes in fear that he’ll expose even more than what his words already have, but he squeezes them too tightly, and a tear ends up spilling down the side of his face to his ear.

“You think coming with me to Irvine is yer solution?” Ginjima carefully laces their fingers together. He squeezes Suna’s hand and Suna’s unable to find the same strength to do so back.

“It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid, don’t rub it in—”

“I’m not! I’m asking,” Ginjima assures. “Who do ya think I am?”

“I don’t know. It’s not the solution, I just want it to be,” Suna’s voice cracks and he thinks it sounds far too pathetic. And he is. Pathetic. Who gives a shit anymore, he’s still going to fit in the last word. “Can we go back to doing stuff? This just became the most depressing birthday I’ve ever had,” he wipes his face down with his hand.

Ginjima laughs, properly, causing Suna to crack a small smile of his own. The sound is so joyous that he can afford to think everything’s gone back to normal, as if they’ve travelled back in time to their first kiss and the future is still forever ahead.

The bed dips as Ginjima props himself up, hovering over Suna as he kisses both of Suna’s cheeks, collecting the wet trails before bringing them together into a salty kiss on his lips.

“What I was gonna say, was that other teams are gonna call. Better ones. You don’t have to leave the country just cuz one of the plenty didn’t call back.”

Suna’s eyes and nose are _burning_ and he can feel his chin begin to crease, quiver. Ginjima’s thumb pads over the furrow of Suna’s eyebrows to relax them.

“I’ll just let the national team know I’m available now,” Suna jokes. He has to joke or else his own throat will choke him.

“Yeah, eventually,” Ginjima hums.

“I don’t want to play for that long,” Suna throws his hand over his eyes because they’re stinging even more and Ginjima doesn't make a move to take it off.

“Why not? You enjoy it.”

Suna snorts. “The national team only recruits freaks like Atsumu. Even Osamu knew that.”

“That’s not why Osamu stopped playing,” Ginjima notes, and Suna lets it go, drained, the last of his thoughts building up behind the dam of his eyelids. “I know you’re just trying to joke, but I don’t think ya should be. Just my opinion, at least.”

Ginjima sighs and drops back down onto the pillows. Suna allows himself to peek through his fingers.

“I’m sure Japan’s national team will take your valuable opinion into consideration.”

Ginjima grins. “I’ll say I told ya so when I’m in line waiting to come congratulate ya for yer win.”

“As if I’d make you wait in line.”

“Score. Boyfriend privileges,” Ginjima pumps his fist into the air without taking his elbow off the bed.

Suna hauls himself up and drops onto Ginjima’s chest. Pale and freckled with subtle red spots, the bruises more noticeable than before. Suna’s mark more noticeable than the ones that Ginjima’s own body was leaving behind. He traces slow lines between what’s visible. Ginjima welcomes it, copies the nonsensical shapes onto Suna’s own arm. 

“I feel like we’re talking about going to space,” Suna thinks aloud.

“Volleyball seems a lot more plausible than space. Just my valuable opinion,” Ginjima counters. Lighthearted, as jokes should be. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Suna mumbles. His hand is centered on Ginjima’s chest and rises in unison with his breaths.

“ _Maybe_ ,” Ginjima huffs a laugh. “You willing to try it out?”

“Maybe.”

“Probably easier to try it here,” Ginjima pulls him in closer, squeezing.

“Probably.”

The calm after the storm, the silence, the stillness, the hyper awareness of little sounds – heart beats, breathing, rustling of cloth. 

The calm after the storm, on a beach, where umbrellas are toppled over, towels are flung in disorder, and the contents of beach bags blown astray. Where the silence of the sea would overwhelm the squawks of the seagulls gliding above.

“And what about other things?” Ginjima asks as Suna shifts to prop his chin up on top of his hand. He takes a few strands of Suna’s hair and twirls it once between his fingers.

“What other things?”

Ginjima shrugs, eyes hooding a little. “Calls with bad connection and pixelated screens, waking up when I go to sleep, mismatched schedules, jerking off alone for a while, I dunno, I’m not caught up on the semantics of it. Call it what ya wanna call it.”

“You’re crass,” Suna acknowledges first. “So a long distance relationship?”

“Not that, ‘cuz apparently that doesn’t work for ya.”

“Not because of the title.”

Cowardice. Fear of knowing that realising the relationship wasn’t strong enough. Not good enough? Always destined for failure. Maybe. Fear of knowing that instead of ending it on a good note, they risked it for a horrible finale, where they can’t fit in their final kiss, hug, or last look goodbye.

“Which is why we won’t worry about the title. Yer Suna now, you’ll be Suna later. As long as I get to continue calling ya, who cares what ya wanna call it,” Ginjima gestures between them.

“It’ll still be a long distance relationship,” Suna rebuttals, though the hesitation is gone.

“We’re both just selfish,” Ginjima settles.

“Me more than you.”

“I hate arguing with ya,” Ginjima scrunches his nose, and pushes the side of Suna’s head lightly, enough to make it bob. “I never get the conclusion.”

“Neither,” Suna turns his head to lay flat again. “I didn’t know we were arguing.” Sounds like a lie, only partially is one.

“I just assumed we were since neither of us are happy talking about this.”

“What’s _this_.”

There’s a sudden shift, and both of Ginjima’s arms wrap around Suna before he lifts them both, rolling them over so that Suna’s laying against the pillow, and Ginjima’s above him. Mid-transition, Ginjima leans forward and kisses Suna. Once, twice, a few times until Suna stretches out his fingers to feather Ginjima’s cheek.

“We’re not old enough to know yet,” Ginjima simpers.

“And what, we will be in a few months?” Suna raises an eyebrow, trying not to let his body react to the wet patches Ginjima starts stringing down the length of his neck. “I thought I would have figured it out by now.”

“Weeks, months, who’s counting,” Ginjima says between kisses and lifts his head, looking down at Suna with an unbothered smile. “Stop tryna put an expiry date on things, we've got a long shelf life. Maybe we’ll never be old enough and do something stupid.”

“We’re always doing something stupid,” Suna sighs as Ginjima dips back down to the junction of his neck and shoulder. 

He lifts his hand to thread his fingers into the back of Ginjima’s hair, feeling the press of Ginjima’s teeth as he smiles into his collarbone.

“But it makes us happy, so who cares? I hope we never figure it out.”

Suna isn’t convinced that that will be the case. He smiles nonetheless – can’t be helped.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if u want to yell at me abt ginsuna or just yell at me in general, i am often doing the same on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/wendysheep)


End file.
